to that. The last reformation simplified Catholicism. The coming one
will simplify Protestantism. And when the world is ripe for it another
will come and simplify that. The ever improving brain will give us an
ever broadening creed. Is it not glorious to think that evolution
is still living and acting--that if we have an anthropoid ape as an
ancestor, we may have archangels for our posterity?

Well, I really never intended to inflict all this upon you, Bertie. I
thought I could have made my position clear in a page or so. But you can
see how one point has brought up another. Even now I am leaving so much
unsaid. I can see with such certainty exactly what you will say. "If
you deduce a good Providence from the good things in nature, what do
you make of the evil?" That's what you will say. Suffice it that I am
inclined to deny the existence of evil. Not another word will I say upon
the subject; but if you come back to it yourself, then be it on your own
head.

You remember that when I wrote last I had just returned from visiting
the Cullingworths at Avonmouth, and that he had promised to let me know
what steps he took in appeasing his creditors. As I expected, I have not
had one word from him since. But in a roundabout way I did get some news
as to what happened. From this account, which was second-hand, and may
have been exaggerated, Cullingworth did exactly what I had recommended,
and calling all his creditors together he made them a long statement as
to his position. The good people were so touched by the picture that
he drew of a worthy man fighting against adversity that several of them
wept, and there was not only complete unanimity as to letting their
bills stand over, but even some talk of a collection then and there to
help Cullingworth on his way. He has, I understand, left Avonmouth, but
no one has any idea what has become of him. It is generally supposed
that he has gone to England. He is a strange fellow, but I wish him luck
wherever he goes.

When I came back I settled down once more to the routine of my father's
practice, holding on there until something may turn up. And for six
months I have had to wait; a weary six months they have been. You see I
cannot ask my father for money--or, at least, I cannot bring myself to
take an unnecessary penny of his money--for I know how hard a fight
it is with him to keep the roof over our heads and pay for the modest
little horse and trap which are as necessary to his